


We (Wont) Die.

by MrPurpleRoach



Category: Outlast
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5092532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrPurpleRoach/pseuds/MrPurpleRoach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First work, Enjoy my writing please. ThankYou. First chapter is short, next will be longer promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

What hell was this?

 

That your own skin would crawl as if insects had found their way beneath it. Your eyes burned like acid had filled them. That there was no end in sight for this suffering. Screams stuck deep in your lungs because the pain was so great, never able to make their way out. So you were stuck laying on the bathroom floor in a pile of black sludge that spewed from between clenched teeth.

 

“Don’t worry. I’m here. You’re okay Miles.”

 

A hand pressed against your sweating brow, pushing back strands of black hair that had fallen out of place. Your own name had not yet registered through a racing mind. Only focusing on the ache inside a withering body.

 

Laying there until the pain stopped was routine. This was not unknown to you, as it has been two years since it has started. Though you was hardly ever alone when it struck. Always a worrying guardian, your only friend left in the world.

 

“Waylon. I can do this myself.”

 

The other was there with you cleaning up whatever god awful toxicity was left behind. Short chocolate brown hair a mess, with green eyes dim with stress and insomnia. There was a bit of stubble from forgetting to shave that day. Though there was still a smile to his face as he heard his own name being said.

 

“How are you feeling now? Any better?” Waylon whispered.

 

Lost in thought. He looks terrible doesn’t he? Not in a way of attraction, god he so wonderful in looks…but he looks tired and sick. The black under his eyes are almost as bad as your own.

 

“Miles?”

 

Back in reality.

 

“I’m sorry. I feel ok now. Well…still shitty but not in pain.”

 

Waylon nodded in a silent response as he cleaned up what was left of the black ooze. You would think to yourself that whatever was coming out of you was your own soul. After every episode you would feel emptier inside.

 

So the mess was cleaned as well as it could be, and your clothes were removed because they were stained with the substance. A hot shower was in order, and you would turn the knob; waiting for the right temperature.  In the other room Waylon could be heard humming to himself. No he didn’t sing, in fact he wasn’t that great of a singer. His voice would crack and the notes were wrong. Though you did not mind because you were no better than he was.

 

The shower was nice and hot. Standing there and looking at the drain with all the water mixed with black flowing into it. Hard to believe that you may not even be human anymore. Fuck that, you are not human. No way in hell.

 

Waylon had left a towel and some of your clothes for you while you were washing up. Drying off while staring in the mirror, you move your hand over bullet wounds that still look fresh, but never rot or bleed. More reason to believe you are no longer really alive. Come to think of it you don’t even think you are breathing at all.

 

“The leaves are changing colors. It looks really nice this time of year.”

 

Standing in the bedroom doorway you look at Waylon sitting over by the bed and looking out the window. He gestured to one of the trees closest to the window. The leaves were dying and it was something beautiful to watch.

 

So you joined him on the bed, with an arm outreaching to you and pulling you in close. He smelled of cinnamon which would always be your favorite thing. When he would speak, you’d listen for hours and still love it. Though thinking of the worry and fear you’d make him feel; what kind of life if that for him?

 

Next thing you know, he is back against the bed with you over him. Hands resting on his face and foreheads against one another. His breathing is unsteady but his own hands reach for the back of your shirt. The feeling in the pit of your stomach when you kiss him makes up for the pain earlier today. If only this feeling could be felt instead. If only you saw his smile more rather than fear in his eyes when you are out of control.

 

Pulled out of this thought when he pulls you closer to his own body and kisses your neck. Your own hands will be racking up his shirt and feeling the skin under your fingertips. Waylon leaves a kiss on the exposed skin on your shoulder and lays back against the bed to look back at you. The way he is looking at you is amazing. It is something about his eyes half lidded and mouth slightly opened into a smile that makes you never want to let him go.

 

“You are wonderful.”

 

It sounded cheesy to you when it left your lips. Yet there he is under you covering his face with a small laugh. Then he pushes you over and now you are against the bed; staring up at the ceiling. He removes the vision when he climbs onto your lap.  Fuck, this is what you want right now. Just he and you together stuck in this moment. The pain will return and you are afraid that it will be too much this time. It always seems like the next time will be the last.

 

“Why do you want to live like this? What is the reason?”

 

You love him. You really do but what is his reason? Hoping to god that he doesn’t feel guilty for basically killing you and is trying to make up for it. What if that was really why he stays? There is hot tears in your eyes and you lay there. He is staring down at you yet he does not budge. His gaze doesn’t turn to anger or sadness. There he is just staring at you.

 

So he goes to lay next to you, one arm laying across your waist. Head resting against your shoulder but he is looking right at you. The tears aren’t stopping and you wonder if you look like a big baby to him. Two years ago you weren’t a broken man. Two years you would not be in pain every few weeks and have to worry about hurting someone.

 

“Miles listen to me- I am not going anywhere. You don’t have to worry about me. I am here for you, I want to be here ok? So don’t cry.”

 

Waylon would take his own sleeve to wipe your eyes slowly. He would have a smile as he did so to ensure you that he was speaking the truth. So you believe him, you believe every word he says. Your arms move around him as you both lay on that bed. Listening to nothing else but the others breathing and the whirring of the ceiling fan.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please enjoy, second chapter

 

People talking loud in one place and total silence are the two worst things. It is either one or the other and you can’t deal with them. You fear you will panic when in a crowd and lose it; you fear being alone in the silence with no way to help yourself.

 

“Shit...”

 

Well you are in one of those places, surrounded by all these people. A store to buy some medicine for Waylon who was running a fever. Your crutch was gone and you were stuck feeling like a helpless dog waiting to be kicked.  Get in quick and grab what you need.

 

That is easier said than done.

 

You had gotten what you needed and had to wait in a line. What if these people would recognize you from wanted posters or the television? They wouldn’t, in fact no one but Waylon can see the real you. He met the real you. All these other people would see faces they have seen before. Maybe they see a friend or a relative, and they ask if they know you. You don’t know them; you would answer back and say it is a simple mistake.

 

Perks of whatever you had become.

 

Take out a couple of bills, pay the person behind the cash register and get out as fast as you can before you have a panic attack.  You wouldn’t have done this unless it was important. Waylon is important. No you aren’t just using him for the comfort.

 

Are you?

 

Leave in a hurry and get back to him. Don’t walk to fast in fear that someone will try and stop you. You didn’t want anyone else involved with you, asking if you are alright. Don’t want them thinking you had done some great wrong. Just hurry back to him and you will be ok.

 

“I got what you needed. Drink it right now ok?”

 

Drink it and get well as quick as possible is what you think to yourself. He just lays there and grunts a bit, not wanting to turn over for it. You nudge him a bit in his shoulder while holding a small plastic cup with that medicine he needs. Still he just lays there and groans, trying to go back to sleep.

 

“Waylon get the hell up I have the medicine. Please.”

 

Finally he sits up and looks at you first, then the tiny cup.  You hand it to him and he drinks it down quick as possible. Watching the face he makes after drinking it makes you worry a bit less. He isn’t dying but you can’t help but worry that he might.

 

“Thank you. Sorry you had to go and get it for me though.”

 

Yeah kind of sucked that you hand to go out by yourself, but it was for the best. It is hard, but you can’t rely on him for everything. He has needs too and it isn’t fair to him. So you give him a slight smile as you take the tiny cup from him and go to set it on the nightstand.

 

You head to get some water because he asked for it. He hasn’t eaten today because of being sick and you feel like you should try and make him soup or something. Though the thought of him vomiting it all back up made you stop. It made you think of when the black ooze spills out of your mouth. You don’t want him to feel the burning pain of bile coming up his throat.

 

“Miles...Hey Miles come here.”

 

Waylon is standing there by the kitchen doorway and looks a mess, but he doesn’t care. He is motioning for you to come over, and you make sure to bring him the water. Heading back to the room, he points to the television and there is your face. You are staring at the screen for a while then look to Waylon with confusion.

 

“It’s funny because they keep saying you look different to each person that see’s you. I guess they will never be able to tell who you are.”

 

Yes, that is true but Waylon looks the same to everyone else. Staring at his bit of curls, you reach up and runs your fingers through them. He smiles and you hand him the water that he needed that was in your other hand.

 

“We should cut your hair again. It’s getting a bit long and people might recognize you.”

 

Waylon use to look so clean and kept up with himself. Now here he is with stubble and hair being cut away. You aren’t the best at cutting hair, so he asks you to buzz it as short as you could with leaving some hair. There is no indication that he cares how he looks right after you are done. Just a thank you and his hand brushing away any hair left behind.

 

Back in bed he was, stripped down naked and only under the comforter. It was only the middle of the day yet that was alright. Waylon needed the rest since many times he is unable to sleep. You on the other hand, you don’t sleep at all. Always kept awake by the static that played on inside your head. Maybe you held the world record for not sleeping for two years. Who would even believe that other than Waylon and yourself?

 

Leave him to sleep as you wander around to the living room. Having made sure to close the door on your way out. There it is, that silence that you hate so much. There wasn’t many people in the apartment complex to make kind of noise. Hardly any cars would pass by in this time of day as people would still be at work. Maybe the best you could do was turn on the radio and just listen to anything that first came on. No caring if it was music or a person talking of sports, just having it was enough.

 

Left alone in thought while sitting back on the couch and staring at the wall. What would you have done before being such a mess? Pretty much anything than what you are doing now. Afraid of your own shadow and latching onto another for emotional support.  The world seemed so terrible without having any real life to live. You are now cursed to be some abomination and suffer forever.

 

Sad to say that you thought about ending it all. Yet nothing would kill you off even if you tried. The damn bullet holes in your body is a constant reminder that it won’t work.  A pretty selfish thing to do when it would leave Waylon all by himself. What would have happened if he was found all alone? Left to die in some prison cell or murdered perhaps. Imagining him with a slit throat almost made you lean over and gag. That scared you more than anything. He may be your only reason for not trying to find a way to die. Have to protect him and make sure nothing ever happens.

 

Just try not to think of any of that stuff right now. It was always hard for you to ever just sit and do absolute nothing.  Though you really never wanted to just sit and do nothing now. Grinding your teeth a bit while your fingers tapped on the couch cushions. Staying focused on the ugly wall paper of this old motel. Do something to keep you distracted enough to keep the thoughts away for a while? These were the best things to do at the moment.

 

Waylon’s coughing is what brought you to look at the bedroom door. He might be needing more water is what you thought to yourself. So with that you slowly get up from the couch and make your way to the door. Opening it, you find him sitting up and covering his mouth as he coughs more. Yes his water cup is empty and you make your way over to him.  Though before you can take hold of the cup, his hand moves around your wrists.

 

“Stay. Just for a bit. I feel like I can’t be by myself right now.”

 

When can you two ever be alone? It was nearly impossible to separate for any amount of time. So now you are more than happy to move up on the bed with him. You both lay back to get as comfortable as you can. Waylon is still under the comforter and you are on the top of it. The thing was acting as a barrier between the two of you. Though you let it be as you would get up soon to get Waylon his water.

 

His eyes were closed but he was smiling as he moves his arm over your chest. No need to worry about getting sick. You would not be able to catch any sickness anymore. Waylon wouldn’t have to look after your sorry ass any more than he already was.  Man, you lose it more than he has ever gotten sick. So Waylon deserves the best care you can provide under the circumstances.

 

So now the both of you are laying there. Nothing is said between either of you but that is ok. Nothing needs to be said as long as you are close to him.  He needs to try and go back to sleep so that he isn’t stuck in bed all day.

 

 

Should do something for him soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more info on what they have planned for themselves as time goes on. Please be patient im slow writer. :)


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